


one glance and the avalanche drops

by blackkat



Series: Tumblr Drabbles [80]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!, Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, First Meeting, Gen, Kakashi does not realize what he's signing up for, M/M, Pre-Slash, Takeshi is scary, Wave arc, but that's okay he's an idiot too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 02:39:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14227299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: Takeshi has absolutely no idea what’s going on, but that’s never stopped him before.





	one glance and the avalanche drops

**Author's Note:**

> Because someone on Tumblr mentioned it, and, uh. Oops?

Takeshi has absolutely no idea what’s going on, but that’s never stopped him before.

There's a bridge when he last remembers being in an old warehouse, a boy slumped over a body with a teenager across from him, a girl guarding an old man. Mist, thick and clinging like one of Mukuro's illusions, but movement within it. Takeshi catches a glimpse of silver hair, a tall man stumbling as another closes in, and he’s moving before he can consider the consequences. Shigure Kintoki falls naturally into his hand, wooden shinai shimmering into steel as he sweeps the blade up.

A massive iron blade crashes into his own, a foot above the silver-haired man’s head.

 _Ow_ , Takeshi thinks, mostly amused, and meets the wide eyes staring at him with a cheerful smile. “Hi there!” he says. “I don’t suppose this is Namimori?”

“Who the hell are you?” the other swordsman growls, and disengages. With a heave, he brings his blade sweeping around, and Takeshi calculates the force of it, the chance that he can block the blow—

The silver-haired man grabs him, and there's a whirl of wind and leaves, a rush of movement that leaves Takeshi dizzy, and they're touching down on the far side of the bridge. Takeshi's feet hit stone, and he moves in the same moment, half a second of concentration sparking Rain Flames. In a rush of wings, Kojirō sweeps over his head through the gathering clouds that swirl down, and Takeshi lunges to meet the swordsman as rain starts to pour.

“Kakashi-sensei!” the girl cries from behind him, and Takeshi ducks to the side, water whirling from Shigure Kintoki’s blade, _concentrates_ —

“Stay back, Sakura!” the other man orders. Lightning sparks, crackling, and Takeshi can't spare a moment to glance at him as he counters the enemy’s heavy sword but somehow he doesn’t think it’s nearly as defensive a technique as Lambo’s.

Maybe, elsewhere, he wouldn’t stop it, but there are three children here. Takeshi's been part of the Vongola for ten years now, left Tsuna to fight Millefiore, seen his world die around him. He’s not about to let children suffer through _more_ deaths, whether it’s the enemy dying or not.

A moment of will, a touch of Flame and intent, and Kojirō cries above him as blue Flames surge.

The battlefield goes still.

Takeshi gives it half a second to be sure the technique will hold, then steps back, ducking under the upraised blade of his opponent. The man looks stunned, eyes wide, but as Takeshi watches his grip on the sword slips and it tumbles to the ground with a clang.

“There we go,” he says lightly, turning Shigure Kintoki as he brings it back down, still ready to move but not quite as threatening. “It’s such a nice day out, it’s a shame to spend all of it fighting. Definitely a lot nicer than where I just was.”

To be expected, maybe, but—well. This certainly isn't where Takeshi expected to end up when he swapped places with his past self. That’s likely what happened, given that both Tsuna and Hayato were switched. Takeshi just hopes his past self is strong enough to use his Box Weapon and beat the Millefiore members.

There's a ragged breath from behind him, and the crackling chirp of the lightning dies away. Takeshi turns to look, just in time to see the silver-haired man stumble and fall to one knee, head dipping. Too much Tranquility, Takeshi thinks with a wince. Most of it is concentrated on the swordsman, but he just wanted everyone to _stop_.

“Oops,” he says, faintly sheepish, and takes a step back. Breathes, and focuses, drawing Shigure Kintoki through the water that’s starting to pool around his feet. The pale blue glow of his Flames whirls back around him, holds the swordsman in place but sets everyone else loose, and Takeshi smiles, lifts his head as Kojirō circles above him and lets the rain fade away.

“What kind of technique was _that_?” the silver-haired man asks, stll on his knees with one hand braced around his wrist. _Definitely_ not a defensive technique, then, Takeshi thinks, eyeing him critically. He looks worn in a way that has nothing to do with Takeshi's Rain Flames, scarred and tired and not quite steady. The girl is watching him with fear just beneath the surface, and the blond boy is silent but wide-eyed, clutching another boy in blue to his chest.

“Shigure Soen Ryu,” Takeshi says cheerfully, which is only partially the truth. He offers the man his hand, keeping a ready grip on Shigure Kintoki, and is only a little surprised when the man takes it. He pulls the man to his feet, steadying him when he wavers, and then glances at the swordsman again. The taller man is fighting the Tranquility in the rain, but he still can't move, and Takeshi smiles cheerfully, lets Flames limn his sword as he raises it.

“I think,” he says, feels Kojirō take off with a sweep of wings, “that whatever you're doing here, it needs to be stopped.”

The dark-haired teenager cries out, full of fear, and lunges. Something close to panic flickers in the swordsman’s face, but Takeshi is already turning, meeting the boy’s lunge with a sweep of his blade. He sidesteps the senbon the boy throws, then brings the blade around in a blur, the dull side catching him across the back of the skull. It’s slightly harder than Takeshi intended, but the teenager goes down, and in the same movement Takeshi flicks the blade down, skims it through the water and brings up a wave threaded through with Flames. It crashes over the other swordsman, and Takeshi watches him crumple, collapsing to the ground in a boneless sprawl.

With a sound of disbelief, the silver-haired man looks from the swordsman to the teenager to Takeshi, and can't quite manage to stop staring. “Are you…one of the Seven?” he asks warily.

Somehow, Takeshi doesn’t think he means one of the seven Vongola Guardians. He laughs sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head, and asks, “Uh, seven what?”

Apparently that’s answer enough, because the man raises a brow at him. “If you're not here for Zabuza, you certainly have good timing,” he says dryly, and then inclines his head. “Hatake Kakashi.”

“Nice to meet you,” Takeshi offers. “I'm Yamamoto Takeshi.”

Kakashi doesn’t so much as blink at the name, but then, Takeshi is sort of assuming this is an entirely alternate dimension from his own, given the way the day is going. There's likely not much hope of going back, either, not that Takeshi particularly wants to; Tsuna is there, and the Guardians’ past selves, and Takeshi can't imagine them doing anything but fixing the problem, regardless of the odds.

(It’s maybe slightly possible that Hayato has a point when he calls Takeshi an optimistic idiot.)

“Zabuza,” he repeats to himself, because it’s always good to remember an opponent’s name, and looks at the swordsman again. Skilled—maybe when he wakes up Takeshi can ask for a rematch. Just to spar, but he’s been focusing on baseball these last few years and could use the practice.

Kakashi hums, though he’s watching Takeshi carefully. After a long moment, he reaches up, pulling his headband down until it slants across his face, hiding his mismatched eye. Like Mukuro's, Takeshi thinks, and has to put effort into keeping his smile from thinning out. _Dangerous_ , probably. Most things like that are.

Then, suddenly, there's a cry, loud and bright and full of relief. Both Kakashi and Takeshi jerk around, just in time to see the blond boy pulling back. The boy in blue in his arms is moving, just slightly, his head turning, but—

Not a corpse. Not a body, and Takeshi hasn’t hardened enough not to feel a rush of relief. From the trembling breath Kakashi lets out, these aren’t just strangers, either. Kakashi cares, and just for that Takeshi would be glad the boy survived.

“Sasuke!” the pink-haired girl cries, abandoning her post to scramble across the bridge. She drops to her knees by the two boys, hands fluttering uncertainly, and the dark-haired boy coughs, closes his eyes again.

“He’s going to be okay, Sakura-chan,” the blond says, like he’s not crying himself. “He’s too much of a bastard to die.”

“Be _nice_ , Naruto,” Sakura orders, voice thick, and scrubs at her eyes, but there's no bite to the words.

This time Takeshi's smile isn't forced at all, and he rubs his thumb over Shigure Kintoki’s hilt, then turns it in his hand. Steel fades back into wood, and he slides it into the sheath across his back. Kojirō is circling above them in widening sweeps, checking for other enemies, and Takeshi trusts his Box Animal to alert him if there are threats. If Kojirō is calm, though, that’s probably sign enough that they're safe for now.

Naruto's sobs have turned to wet hiccups, and Takeshi lets his gaze drift over the trio, assessing for a moment. Hayato probably had that reaction, he thinks, when Tsuna's fourteen-year-old self climbed out of the coffin they laid him to rest in. Friends coming back to life is—rare. Precious.  

(He doesn’t let himself dwell on his suspicion, that the Tsuna he knew so well was planning something in the days before his death. Too many options and not enough facts, but—

Tsuna thought their younger selves could fix things. He must have. There must be some reason. And even if there isn't, the past is being rewritten just because of their younger selves’ presence. It will be enough to change things; Takeshi believes that wholeheartedly, and for that reason he’s willing to leave it in their hands.)

A flicker of motion seen from the corner of his eye has him moving, and he catches Kakashi by the elbow as he staggers, pulling him back upright with a bit of effort. “Easy now,” he offers lightly. “You don’t want to ruin the good news they just got, right?”

Kakashi gives him a mild, careful look that reminds him all too clearly of Reborn. “I would never,” he responds, and then, “How long will Zabuza be unconscious?”

Takeshi has no idea; everyone responds to the Tranquility attribute differently, depending on so many factors that it once made Hayato pull his hair out trying to determine them all. Apparently his blank look speaks for him, because Kakashi sighs a little, and says, “Let me get him tied up and sealed before it wears off.”

“You probably have a few minutes,” Takeshi says, though a little doubtfully, but he helps Kakashi over to the other swordsman. “Are you going to take him somewhere?”

“Back to Konoha,” Kakashi answers absently. “He’s a threat to our client, but since he’s trying to destabilize Kiri he’s too valuable just to kill.”

Assassin rules, Takeshi thinks, and he knows them well; Reborn was the one to teach him, before he died from the radiation. _Anything that isn't helpful to me may as well be a threat_. Kakashi probably isn't yakuza, though, and Takeshi trusts his instincts there.

“Sounds like politics,” he jokes, because it’s the same tone Tsuna used to use when he talked about the Families jockeying for power. And then, when Kakashi’s expression takes on the faintest shadow of a grimace, he laughs. “Definitely politics.’

“The fact that you don’t know that makes me think that you're not from around here,” Kakashi says pointedly, changing the subject.

Takeshi finds himself looking away, out over the water. Thinks, again, of Tsuna in that coffin, the quiet moments with Hibari in the days before his death. Anyone else and Takeshi might have thought it was romance, or at least comfort, but—Reborn’s death broke something in Tsuna, a little. Takeshi always kind of wondered about that.

Twice he gave up baseball for his family. For his Family, with all the double meanings that go along with the term. So many time he’s been ready to die for them, for a chance that any of the others might survive. _What if I hadn’t left_ , he thinks, and he had a chance at the major leagues, at one of his dreams, but—

Tsuna died, and his younger self appeared in the middle of their war-torn world, terrified and desperate but full of hope. Takeshi had looked at him, that first moment in the forest, and thought _Oh_ , felt it vibrate through him like a tuning fork struck at just the right note.

Their younger selves will save the future, save the world. And if that means Takeshi is here, in this world with its swordsmen wielding oversized swords and using not-quite-Flames to fight, so be it.

That’s a sacrifice he’s more than willing to make.

“Not really from anywhere, anymore,” he says, and by all rights it should be grim, unhappy, but—well.

Hayato did always call him an optimistic idiot.

“I think I'm looking for a place,” he says, and it feels right, makes him grin as he meets Kakashi’s assessing stare.

Kakashi looks at him, then looks him over. One long sweep, head to toes, and a silver brow slides up towards his wild hair. “Are you now,” he asks, but—

Takeshi's willing to take it as a peace offering, as an invitation, and he laughs.


End file.
